


Growing

by AsTheSun (orphan_account)



Series: Prompt Sets [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Mockingjay, Prompt Set
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AsTheSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A response to a set of writing prompts set in the time near the end of Mockingjay when Peeta and Katniss are growing back together. Lengths and topics will vary. All prompts will feature Katniss and Peeta, but other characters may come and go.</p><p>Prompt Set #321 from alloftheprompts on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt One: Why Are You Calling Me?

In the months since Peeta’s return, I worked hard to set routines for myself. Dr. Aurelius was right when he said that going through the motions would bring meaning to them eventually. When I feel myself sliding into sadness, I think of the next thing that I needed to do and force myself to do it. My bows have never been so well kept and the house has never been cleaner or more dust free. The floors shines from the lemon scented cleaner I find under the sink and Sae’s granddaughter slides around on it in her stocking covered feet, giggling like mad.

There’s very little that I do, that isn’t planned down to the moment. On my bad days, it’s safer that way. On good days, it keeps me on track. I have breakfast and dinner with Peeta, Sae and her granddaughter. I hunt in the middle of the day and distribute the meat where it’s most needed. My afternoons are split between chores, speaking with friends, family and Dr. Aurelius on the phone and working on the memory book.

I think that’s why I’m not surprised when the phone rings one afternoon. The hours between my return from the woods and dinner are the time for phone calls. I balance my bow and the small tin of wax on my lap as I answer the ringing with a distracted hello.

“Katniss, my girl, how have you been?”

Hearing Plutarch Heavensby’s voice brings me up short. It’s been nearly a year since he walked off the hovercraft and told me not to be a stranger. I had honestly never expected to hear from him again. For a moment, I panic, my carefully laid routines thrown askew. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I manage to make myself speak.

“Why are you calling me?” 

I know it’s rude and hardly fair. The ex-gamemaker was a strange man who straddled the line between friend and enemy throughout our entire association, but he certainly didn’t deserve that. Before I can apologize, he laughs and replies, “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. You’ve never been one to beat around the bush. I had it on good authority that you’re finally on the mend after everything that had happened. I called you for weeks after you returned, but it seemed no one had seen or heard from you. I thought I’d let you be until you were feeling more like yourself.”

“Oh.” I murmur. My mouth has gone so dry that my tongue seems stuck to the roof of my mouth. I try to think of something more to say, but my brain can’t catch any of the thoughts that tumble past.

“When we talked last, I mentioned that I was launching a singing program. It isn’t really catching on like I had hoped.” I frown, vaguely recalling the way he had described the concept of the new show during our flight, “I think it could really use a guest star with a voice like gold. What do you say?”

As quickly as the panic had set in, it slips away. The request is absurd. If I were allowed to leave the district, and I very much doubt I would be allowed, the last thing I would want to do is spend my time performing for the camera. I was the mad girl who had accidentally shot the wrong president. Who would want to watch me stand on a stage in a pretty dress and sing?

“I don’t think so, Plutarch. Everyone’s heard me sing my best song. How would I ever top it?” I murmur, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. I can hear him draw a breath to argue with me so I rush into a point I know will convince him, “I’m also a little… less easy on the eyes than I used to be. I think people would be so disturbed by the scars that I’d do more harm than good.”

I can hear Plutarch sigh and make a little noise of agreement, “I hadn’t considered that. Makeup does do wonders…”

“I really didn’t heal up very well.” I add. It’s a lie. The scars aren’t that bad, but people who have lived in the Capitol take things like that more seriously than most.

“That’s that then.” He says, disappointed, “I’ll think on it some more. If I come up with something, I’ll give you another call.”

I can’t help smiling a little, “I’m sure whatever you come up with will be well liked.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re doing better.” He says abruptly, “I’m sure I’ll talk to you again before long.”

I say goodbye and hang up the phone, chuckling a little. The bow and wax are waiting in my lap, the next step in my routine. With only a little hesitation, I set them aside and stand, stretching and wincing as my spine pops. For the first time, the routine seems like more of a hindrance than a blessing. I scoop up a parcel of meat from the counter on my way out the front door. I want to tell Peeta about Plutarch’s call, to make him laugh. I rarely have anything to say that makes him laugh. I just hope he won’t mind a little break from his routines.


	2. Prompt Eight: You keep blaming me for your mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumping to prompt eight because going in order is for chumps.

The sun is sinking over the horizon when I finally spot Peeta headed back from town. His days in the bakery can be long, depending on what he’s doing and how many orders he has waiting. He always tries to come home for dinner and almost always succeeds. If he doesn’t, he still sends someone to let me know, so I come out just before sunset and take up my post on the porch swing to wait. 

Today, Haymitch is sitting on his porch as well. He ran out of liquor two days ago and would be sober for another two unless the trains came early. His geese are roaming the patch of land between our two houses and my mentor and I have been trading barbs and insults for nearly twenty minutes as they honk away from the grass under us. Despite the harsh words, we’re both grinning. I’m more like the old drunk than I care to admit. There’s something about the juvenile name calling that makes me feel better.

“We better knock it off.” Haymitch says, chin jutting out to the road behind me, “The boy’s on his way back and looks like he’s bringing company. You know how he hates to hear us go at each other.”

Peeta’s never understood the way Haymitch and I snipe at each other. Maybe it just reminds him that Haymitch chose me time and again. Either way, we try to be more civil and less familiar in front of him. I slant my hand against the glare of the sunset trying to see who Peeta has with him. He didn’t mention having anyone over for dinner.

The figure is tall and lean, but I can’t make out any of the finer details from this distance. I squint and can make out dark hair when I hear Haymitch cursing behind me. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning back to see Haymitch abandon his chair.

“Not a thing, sweetheart.” Haymitch says, not even bothering to try and hide the lie, “I’m just going inside. Night air’s a touch to cool for my old bones.”

It’s June. The nights are nearly as unbearably warm as the days. He’s gone before I can argue with him. I turn back, Peeta and his guest are much closer now than they had been and I can immediately see why Haymitch fled. I want to do the same thing, but with the pair of them already inside the village, there’s nowhere for me to run.

Years may have passed, but I don’t think I’ll ever really be prepared to face Gale Hawthorne.

Peeta grins with a kind of false cheerfulness, “Look who I found wandering around the square. He didn’t realize that Hazelle had a house in this part of town.”

Gale stops awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs as Peeta climbs up to greet me with a kiss. It’s brief and sweet and then he’s pulling away and heading for the front door, “I’m just going to go on inside and let you two catch up.”

After everything we’ve been through, Peeta and I are able to communicate easily with just a look. I call him a coward with my eyes and he grins at my discomfort. I think he enjoys seeing me suffer from time to time. I tell myself it’s a horrible side effect of the hijacking and not Peeta’s own wickedness. Sometimes I even believe it.

Too quickly, Gale and I are left alone with only the obnoxious squawking of Haymitch’s geese to break the tense silence. He doesn’t make any move to climb up onto the porch with me and I just stare at the top of his bowed head. I want to say something, anything, but the words just drop through my sieve of a brain.

Finally, thankfully, Gale speaks, “Hey Katniss.”

I’m Katniss, not Catnip, and oddly I’m relieved. His words are barely a greeting, but it forces my tongue to function again, “Gale.”

With a deep breath, he looks up to meet my gaze. His grey seam eyes look so much like my own that we could be the cousins from the capitol’s lie. Unlike Peeta, I can’t read anything in his gaze. I don’t think I ever really could, despite the years of friendship we shared.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” I manage finally, drawing my feet up onto the swing beside me and wrapping my arms around my knees.

Gale lets out a dry chuckle, “I can’t say I planned to ever come back. It was Posy’s special birthday request. I couldn’t very well deny her that.”

The soft way he talks about his sister is a dagger in my chest. He gets to hear his sister’s birthday wishes and help to make them come true. Prim will never wish for anything again. I would give anything to be able to see her one more time, let alone do something to make her as happy as Posy will be. Gale and Beetee and their horrible weapons ruined all of Prims chances-

I curl my fingers into my knees, letting the pain of my nails cut that line of thought off. I love Posy. She talks about Gale often, too young to know about the strain Prim’s death put on the relationship I shared with her brother. I am glad he’s finally come to see her, “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you. She misses you.”

I may not be able to read Gale, but he can see through me as if I were made from glass. I feel that fragile as he looks me over. The wrong word will shatter me into a thousand pieces. I’m both glad and angry when he lets the moment pass. I force myself to relax my fingers as he takes a seat facing me on the bottom step. 

“Things look good here.” Gale says, “You’d hardly know that this place was as bad as it was after the bombing. The memorial in the square is nice. Peeta spotted me when I was looking at it.”

A few people had been inspired by the memory book when they saw Peeta and I working on it one night at the bakery. They wrote their own stories and we buried all of them in a metal lockbox. We planted a beautiful garden over it, with several nice wooden benches nearby. The names of the fallen had been carved into the backs of the benches by the people who loved them. I painstakingly copied each word Peeta and I had written about Prim in the memory book over to add to the box. Peeta had added her name to the first bench because my hands had been too unsteady to do it myself.

I swallowed the pain down, trying to force Prim’s memory away for now, “We’re working hard to make it home again.”

Gale’s lips twitch, in irritation or unspoken words, I’m not sure. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “This was a mistake. I should have gone straight to my mother’s house.”

Despite the pain at seeing him and the anger that it has stirred up, I don’t want him to go yet. I miss my best friend almost as much as I miss Prim some days. I miss the boy he had been, before feelings, and the hunger games, and capitol love stories ruined what we had. 

Before he can get up I say, “Are you still living in District 2?”

“You knew I was in District 2?” My question brought him up short. He settles back against the railing again.

“Sae mentioned that you had work there.” I replied, “When I first got back. Said she saw you on television from time to time.”

“Oh. Yeah. President Paylor offered me a job as head of the Lawbringers… they’re the group that took over from the Peacekeepers.” Gale shrugged, “I didn’t really know what else to do with myself after… well after. Paylor said I obviously had been on the wrong side of the Peacekeepers for the wrong reasons. I wasn’t violent or a drunk, just trying to survive and provide for my family, so that made me more useful than a lot of people. I feel like I’m doing good.”

I nod, but say nothing. We’re both silent again, but it’s not nearly so tense. I can hear Peeta stomping around in the house, probably getting dinner together. Gale notices my distraction with a small smile, “So you and Mellark made it official.”

It’s a statement, not a question. I arch an eyebrow at him in surprise. I didn’t know that anyone outside of the district knew about it. He shrugs, “I heard it from Johanna the last time we bumped into each other. She had it from Haymitch, I guess.”

“Oh. Yes. It was a small ceremony.” I shrugged, laying my head on my knees, “Haymitch, your mother and Posy, Delly and her husband, Sae and her granddaughter. We toasted some bread and ate some cake. Delly had us sign the paperwork and dropped it off for us at the justice building when she went in for work the next day.”

“Sounds nice. Congratulations.” Gale swallowed heavily, “I think I always knew, after those first games, that it was going be him.”

“That I wouldn’t be able to survive without him?”

I meant it as a joke, thought I could tease him about his harsh words after all this time, but it comes out more bitter than lighthearted. Gale looks startled and his face flushes in embarrassment, “You heard that?”

“It was hardly flattering.” I said, chuckling a little. His mortification takes the sting out of the old words at last, “I love Peeta, you know.”

“That much was always obvious to everyone but the two of you.” Gale said with a snort.

“I loved you, too.” I added, because it was true.

Gale let out a little humorless laugh, “You were never in love with me though.”

I shrugged without saying anything. I don’t know if that was true or not. I had never really given Gale much thought in a romantic sense. Before the war, I had been too worried about staying alive, first from starving, then from the games and later by dodging Snow. After, there was just too much between us for love to survive.

“Even now, you can’t admit it.” Gale rolled his eyes at my stubbornness, “Time was your lack of a response would have given me hope. I’m smart enough now to know you don’t mean anything by it.”

“I think it’s fair to say that you don’t know anything about me anymore.” I snap, my temper getting the better of me, “I wonder sometimes if you ever really did.”

“I used to.” Gale replied, voice sharp and cruel, “When you were just a girl looking out for your family. I never knew the victor-you. I never wanted to.”

My knees sting again as my nails dig into the skin. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t ground me like it did before, “You made that plain. I did what I had to. You could never understand!”

“And you keep blaming me for your mistakes!” Gale burst out, “You pulled the stunt with the berries. You forced them to allow two victors when the rules only allowed for one. You were the one who stirred up the Districts, even if it wasn’t intentional. So I wouldn’t run away with you when you wanted me to, by that point the damage was done. Nothing could have stopped the rebellion. While you were panicking because you couldn’t have it all, I was preparing for when the other shoe finally dropped.”

“You’re saying this was all my fault?” I couldn’t believe the things coming out of his mouth, “You have no idea what it was like!”

“Poor you.” He spat, unbothered by my anger, “You were so wrapped up in your own problems that you were useless when it came to anything else. It was sheer dumb luck that we weren’t all killed in the Capitol raid. Coin was a monster, but killing her left a lot of things in chaos. You didn’t have to do anything, didn’t have to defend your actions, you just lost your damned mind and got shipped back home, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”

“I never wanted any of this! I didn’t want to be a symbol for rebellion or a leader!” I cried, unfolding myself from the swing at last. I don’t know if I was going to storm off into the house or fly at him in a rage.

“And I didn’t kill your damned sister!”

We stare at each other for a moment, the words heavy between us. I really have blamed him all these years for Prim’s death, even if I didn’t admit it to myself. Even though I know, deep down, that it wasn’t Gale’s fault, I’ve never been able to forgive him for the bombs that killed Prim. He never intended for them to be used on innocent people, but he gave the secret of the trap over to Coin. He didn’t see her for the power hungry killer that she was.

“I loved Prim like she was my own sister.” Gale said finally, the fight going out of him, “For months after she died, I blamed myself. Finally, I realized that if it hadn’t been my trap, it would have been something else. Coin needed to be sure that no one would support Snow in the end. She also knew that you would be a problem. Since she hadn’t been able to kill you, she decided to strike at an easier target that would still take you out of the picture. She underestimated you and you killed her for it. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but I won’t shoulder all the fault for it anymore.” 

I feel the tears fill my eyes, and then suddenly Gale’s got his arms wrapped around me. I can hear him murmuring reassurances into my hair as the top of my head grows damp with his own tears. It’s cathartic. I finally feel the anger I’ve held onto all these years melt away.

“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish there was some way to bring her back.” Gale murmured, pulling away and wiping his face on his sleeve. I step back to give him space and try to brush the tears from my own cheeks, “What’s done is done. Prim would have never wanted me to hate myself for what happened to her.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted us to fight like this, either.” I said, knowing both things to be true about my sister. She would have been heartbroken to know how long we had been at odds.

He doesn’t ask my forgiveness and I don’t offer it. That’s not what this is about. 

Peeta comes out onto the porch, acting as if he couldn’t hear everything we had just said, “Dinner’s on the table if you two are ready to eat.”

Gale looks like he’s going to protest, so I just shove him toward the house, “The least I can do is feed you after all that. Come on.”

He laughs and follows the smell of roast rabbit to the table. Things aren’t fixed between the two of us, but the largest obstacle is behind us now. Hopefully we can move forward from here. Prim would have wanted it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one immediately screamed Gale at me. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I have a bad habit of over-analyzing my work and eventually discarding it as not good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Found a tumblr (alloftheprompts) with a number of interesting writing prompts broken down in sets. I imagine that they're meant to let tumblr followers submit a number and receive a short bit written for them, but I don't have enough tumblr followers yet for that to be much use for me.
> 
> Instead I'm going to try to write a little something for each of the ten prompts, to try and jump start my brain for writing. I have two large pieces that are going nowhere due to writer's block. Here's to hoping this will help get past them! So I give you Prompt Set 321-1! These bits will be set near the end of MJ.
> 
> Find me on tumblr - radant-as-the-sun!


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